


Deep in a Corner of the Night

by Agapostemon



Series: The Sound of Shattered Glass [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Matt Holt has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Nightmares, No Sex, POV Shiro (Voltron), Sexual Themes, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Showers, Trans Matt Holt, Trans Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: He’s not sure where he is, at first. It’s dark and weirdly soft, lit only by a faint cyan light. It’s a far cry from the hard metal and eerie purple glow he was expecting. It’s a topsy-turvy feeling which, combined with the wet fabric around him, makes him feel almost like he’s drowning.





	Deep in a Corner of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Pee, minor sexual themes (no actual sex), trauma feels/nightmares, cursing
> 
> Uh... this was on anon for a while, but I made the executive decision to post a topically similar fic off anon so might as well just? Take credit for my own darn writing? Especially because I really wanna put this... in the series it was written to be part of...

Shiro warily eyes the pit in the corner of the communal cell. He knows it’s a toilet. He’s watched two of their alien cellmates relieve themselves there since they arrived. He knows he should be grateful there’s a toilet at all. He _should_ be.

But he’s too busy being mortified by the idea of peeing in front of everyone. He’s not sure what’s worse: peeing in front of Matt and Doc Holt, or peeing in front of half a dozen strangers of varying species. The pressure in his bladder tells him he’s going to have to find out very soon. How many hours has it been since they were stripped of their space suits and thrown into this hideous prison garb?

Shiro snorts, remembering Matt’s tirade about the jumpsuits. Something about Impressive Commitment to the Evil Aesthetic. (“At least the weird shoulder thing kind of covers your chest,” Shiro had pointed out, watching a split second of relief flicker across his friend’s face.)

A sharp pain jabs into his lower abdomen when he laughs, a sure sign that his bladder doesn’t appreciate the movement. He grimaces and adjusts his legs beneath himself, hoping no one’s paying enough attention to notice the way he’s pressing his heel against his crotch.

At this point he’s not sure he can even make it over to the pit toilet without, well…

Time to find out, he supposes, picking himself up off the metal floor.

He almost makes it. He almost does. But the struggle to parse how to open the goddamn jumpsuit takes just a moment too long, and…

…and he wakes up in a tangle of wet blankets and panic.

He’s not sure where he is, at first. It’s dark and weirdly soft, lit only by a faint cyan light. It’s a far cry from the hard metal and eerie purple glow he was expecting. It’s a topsy-turvy feeling which, combined with the wet fabric around him, makes him feel almost like he’s drowning.

“Shiro?” a sleepy voice cuts through his thoughts.

Matt?

There’s a rustle as Matt rolls over beside him. Embarrassment clenches in Shiro’s chest, but he’s not sure why yet. The feeling intensifies when he feels a tug at the wet blanket around his waist.

“Oh,” Matt says, realization dawning in his voice.

 _Shit_. Realization washes over Shiro, too, bringing with it a fresh wave of panic. No no no, did he wet the bed? No. Fuck. He tries to scramble away. It’s a futile effort. Matt already knows. He knows. Helplessness hits Shiro like a ton of bricks and a sob catches in his throat.

“Hey,” Matt whispers frantically, “Takashi, hey. D’you know where you are?”

Shiro tries to find the disgust in his voice, but it’s not there. Nothing feels real. What was the question, again?

“Shiro,” Matt’s voice breaks through the fog again, still without a hint of disgust, “Hey. It’s Matt. We’re in your room, in the castle.”

The castle. Right. They’re in the castle. Shiro makes a small sound of recognition.

“You, uh…” Matt hesitates. Shiro braces himself. “You wet the bed,” Matt says, his voice more uncertain than repulsed, “Can I, uh… is it okay if I touch you?”

Touch him? No no no. Shiro frantically shakes his head.

“Okay,” Matt responds, backing away. Shiro almost wishes he hadn’t. He suddenly, desperately wants someone to hold him. He needs someone to tell him he’s not disgusting.  But he can’t ask that of Matt.

After a tense moment, Matt speaks up from the edge of the bed, “What can I do to help?”

Shiro opens his mouth to tell him to go away, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t bring himself to ask for help either, though, so instead he sits frozen in silent indecision, heartbeat speeding up as he becomes more and more uncomfortably aware of the way his wet boxers are clinging to his legs. He wants to claw his way directly out of his skin, but instead he can’t seem to move at all.

“Are you… do you think…” Matt fumbles for words, “I hope you don’t think I think you’re gross or anything. Cause I don’t. I mean, if you want me to go away just tell me, but uh… I don’t think you’re gross. For the record. So if you, like… Heck. I dunno what the right thing to say is. Is it weird if I offer to help you get cleaned up? Okay, yeah. That’s probably weird. Fuck. But I mean. The offer stands. Er, all the available offers stand.”

Oh.

 _Not gross or anything_.

Shiro takes a shaky breath, willing himself to speak. The words won’t come, though, so he settles for nodding.

“Wait, uh… which… which offer are you nodding about?” Matt asks, “The leaving one or the helping one?”

“The, uh,” Shiro’s voice comes out strained and small, “Helping. If you’re okay with it?”

Matt’s whole posture seems to relax, “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. Can I… touch you, now? Is that okay?”

Shiro hesitates, then nods.

Matt smiles softly and leans forward, cupping Shiro’s cheek in his hand and planting a kiss on his forehead, “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” Then he gets up to rummage through the closet for a change of clothes, leaving Shiro to peel away the wet blankets and crawl out of bed.

He feels exposed, standing there in nothing but damp boxers while he waits for Matt to emerge from the closet with clean clothes. Embarrassed and anxious and… god, is he turned on?

That thought horrifies him just a little too much to dwell on, so he tucks it away to revisit sometime when he’s feeling a little less vulnerable. _Why is his brain like this?_

A moment later, Matt returns to his side with an armful of pajamas and greets Shiro with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, “Shower time?”

Shiro nods and allows his boyfriend to guide him towards the en suite bathroom.

“Should I… stay?” Matt asks cautiously when they arrive.

Shiro’s words continue to fail him, so he responds with another nod.

“Kay,” Matt says. He pauses for a moment, then strips off his boxer briefs and oversized t-shirt and tosses them in the nearby hamper. Once he’s undressed, he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest with a lopsided grin, “Shower time!”

A bashful smile flickers across Shiro’s face as he tugs off his own boxers. If Matt notices he’s hard, he mercifully keeps his mouth shut. But he probably can’t tell, Shiro assures himself. Rare advantages of being a trans guy: harder for your boyfriend to tell that you’re weirdly turned on after peeing yourself in front of him.

He suppresses a snort of laughter at the absurdity of it all. He can feel himself starting to shake. They’ve showered together before, but these aren’t exactly ordinary circumstances.

“C’mon,” Matt hops in the shower and beckons to Shiro, who awkwardly follows suit.

Neither of them talks as Matt points the showerhead away and turns it on, holding his fingers in the stream as he waits for the water to heat up. Neither of them talks as Matt turns the showerhead back towards Shiro, allowing warm water to cascade down his broad, scarred chest. Or as Matt wets a washcloth and passes it to him.

It’s not until Shiro busies himself washing his thighs that Matt finally speaks up. “How you doin’?” he asks gently.

“I’m okay,” Shiro says, carefully training his eyes anywhere but Matt’s face. He’s not sure if he’s telling the truth. He hopes he’s telling the truth. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s okay or not.

Matt makes a small, sympathetic sound, “You have a bad dream?”

Shiro thinks for a moment, then nods, “Something like that, yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Matt offers.

Shiro’s face flushes as he tries to pull up the fuzzy details of the dream. He shakes his head, “Rather not. Maybe later.”

“Okay,” Matt says, dropping the subject, “You want me to wash your back for you?” 

Shiro grins. Now _that_ is an offer he can get behind. There’s nothing quite like having his back washed for him to make him feel clean and loved. “Please do,” he says, rinsing out his washcloth before handing it over to his boyfriend.

 

***

 

After their shower, they migrate to Matt’s usually-neglected room for the night. They’ll figure out the laundry situation in the morning. For now, cuddles are in order.

“C’mere, Kashi,” Matt says, holding up the covers for Shiro to join him. Once he does, Matt curls around him like a backpack and nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck.

For a few minutes, Shiro is content to drink in the affection. Revel in how nice and clean he feels. But it’s not long before shame seeps back in, suffocating him. “Sorry,” he murmurs, squirming slightly.

“About what?” Matt asks, indignant.

“About… you know,” Shiro shrugs. He doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“No,” Matt responds sternly, “Nope. No apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.”

Shiro shrinks in on himself. “Sorry,” he whispers again, unable to help himself.

“Aww, no, that’s not…” Matt’s voice softens, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not upset.”

Shiro takes a deep breath, willing himself to come up with a response other than another apology. “I’m…” he starts, then sighs in resignation, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Matt kisses the back of his head, “I know. But I’m not upset. I promise.”

“ _Why?_ ” asks Shiro.

“Why am I not upset?”

Shiro nods.

“Cause you didn’t do anything _wrong_ , buddy,” Matt assures him, punctuating the statement with a couple more light kisses, “You had a bad dream. You wet the bed. It… happens.”

“I’m just…” Shiro searches for words, “I’m—”

“If you say gross I’m gonna dunk you in a tub of Space Spaghetti-Os,” Matt threatens, “Then you’ll be gross for real.”

“What,” Shiro blinks.

“Just…” Matt lets out a frustrated sigh, “Don’t. Please? You’re not gross.”

“But—”

“Please don’t,” Matt pleads, “It makes _me_ feel gross.”

Wait. What?

“Sorry,” Shiro mutters again reflexively.

Matt doesn’t respond. Shiro wonders if he’s mad. He’s not moving away, though. Shiro can feel his eyelashes on his neck and his heart beating against his back. He would move away if he was mad, right? Right?

Finally, quietly, Matt speaks, “I think it’s story time.”

“Okay,” Shiro says softly, cupping his left hand over Matt’s, “What’s on your mind?”

“Did I tell you about the neverending UTI?” Matt asks.

“Yeah,” Shiro nods, “Think it came up as an aside during the Yeast Infections in Space conversation a couple weeks ago.”

Matt snorts, then hesitates. Shiro suspects he’s trying to find some way to spin a horrifically traumatic memory as a joke. Apparently he’s not having much success this time, because when he speaks again, his voice is grim, “It uh… it got pretty bad.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says gently, “I bet.”

“Yep,” Matt forces a laugh, “Galra prisons aren’t exactly renowned for their attentive medical care.”

Silent tension falls over them again. Shiro can feel his boyfriend’s hand fidgeting beneath his own.

“…do you see where I’m going with this, or am I gonna have to spell it out?” Matt asks after a moment.

Shiro is pretty sure he knows exactly where this is going, but he’s never been a fan of guessing games. “You don’t _have_ to do anything. But yeah, you might… need to actually say the thing if you want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Silence again, followed by a bitter laugh, “I got to know pee _real_ well in Galra prison. We’re friends, now. Me and pee. Real good buds.”

Shiro squeezes his boyfriend’s hand, unsure what to say.

“So, um…” Matt continues, “Either you’re not gross or we’re both gross. One or the other.”

Shiro squeezes his hand harder, “You’re not gross.”

“Yeah, well,” Matt nuzzles just behind his ear, “Neither are you.”

Shiro’s not sure he believes that, but he finds solace in hearing it out loud anyways.

“Mm, sleepy,” Matt mumbles into the back of his neck, “You think you’re up for sleeping yet?”

Shiro takes a quick inventory of how he’s feeling, then nods, “Yeah, I should be.”

“Okay,” Matt says with a final kiss to the back of his head, “Wake me up if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re not gross, okay?” Matt adds with a yawn, “Not gross. I’m gonna keep telling you that until you believe it.”

“I know,” Shiro murmurs. This time he _almost_ believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, you might be interested in the (significantly more explicit) [companion fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12106560/chapters/27449151)!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


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